Musings on the word 'birdy' and other vocabulary

Come on, admit it, all you patch birders know exactly what I'm talking about if I say, "Nothing new today, but it felt really birdy."  It's one of those phrases that shows precisely what the patch felt like, but is very difficult to put fully into words.  

What does the term 'birdy' actually mean?  What makes one day more birdy than another? 

It could be an increase in birdsong. It might be a greater flitting, seen in trees and bushes out of the corner of our eyes, or bigger numbers of birds flying overhead.  Or perhaps it's simply down to a change in the weather.  It can feel birdy at any time of the year, but I've noticed the term used far more during Spring and Autumn than at any other time. It's just a feeling I guess.  But, we all know there are also times when it should be birdy and it's very much not!  Those disappointing days when we wake early and grab our optics with expectation, then go home later, wondering where all the birds have disappeared to - a regular occurrence here in Warwick.

It's always a birdy day on Bardsey Island

As with any hobby, birding has developed its own vocabulary; some words and phrases used universally and understood by all, with some sticking to certain locations (it took me a while to be able to understand and respond to "Sin owt?" at Spurn.)

One of the most used and perhaps most amusing, to the immature among us, is the word jizz (or giss, if we want a slightly less questionable spelling).  Wikipedia describes it as the overall impression or appearance of a bird garnered from such features as shape, posture, flying style or other habitual movements, size and colouration combined with voice, habitat and location. It was actually used first in ornithology way back in 1921, by an Irish man by the name of T.A. Coward (according to a paper written by Jeremy and Julian Greenwood - yep, there's actually a paper on the word jizz!)  Mr Coward explained it perfectly:

‘If we are walking on the road and see, far ahead, someone whom we recognise although we can neither distinguish features nor particular clothes, we may be certain that we are not mistaken; there is something in the carriage, the walk, the general appearance which is familiar; it is, in fact, that individual’s jizz.'

Photo - Bridgeman Images

It's true, the regular birder can often identify a bird - even in silhouette, from some distance and partially obscured by branches - just by the way it is moving and with knowledge of the regular behaviour of certain breeds.  Green finches sit proudly at the tops of trees, siskins hang from the ends of branches, flycatchers dart out and back to their perches - they all have their individualities that can be learned and used, although not guaranteed, to narrow down what we are seeing.

The behaviour of birds brings out a whole plethora of vocabulary - I have no idea if there's a difference between 'flighty' or 'mobile', 'over' or 'passing through'. I've never heard the words 'elusive' or 'confiding' used more than in birdwatching.  Then there's the labels for the birds themselves.  We lazily shorten their names from meadow pipit to mipit, sparrowhawk to sprawk. Blackwit, barwit and some we even reduce to acronyms like GBBG, LSW and GWE.  We call birds plastic if they're not wild enough, migrant if they're moving and vagrant if they're lost.  

And then there's a list of other birding terms...  

We twitch a rare bird (especially if it's mega).  We dip if we can't find it.  We string if we pretend we did. Apparently, if we send a twitcher the wrong way on purpose, we're gripping them off.  We curse our bogey birds, we curse the togs that get too close to a bird and we celebrate when we tick a bird.

Lastly, there's that all important Boooom! This one depends on how special the bird seen is.  The number of Os, exclamation marks and whether the word is in bold or even capitals is the measure on this one.  

I'm sure there's many many more words and phrases I've still to learn, but now I'm going to dive into my copy of Mrs Moreau's Warbler, to read more about from where our lovely birds got their names.

Happy birding!

Lizzy

The origin of the birdwatching term ‘jizz’ | British Birds

Mrs Moreau's Warbler by Stephen Moss | Natural History Books | Faber

Cattle egret and more!

Some days are rubbish, some are a bit meh, some are quite pleasant.  And then, every once in a while, there's a day that smacks you right in the face with its awesomeness.  Today was one of those days.

Strolling to the Saxon Mill, we started our morning along a private stretch of river we are lucky to have access to.  Enjoying all the usuals as we walked, it wasn't long before we reached an open floodplain.  We had been on the lookout for marsh tit and treecreeper, which we still don't have on the Warwick 100 list this year, but hadn't had any joy.  

In the distance, on the other side of the river, we spotted a couple of egrets in the horse fields.  There have been up to four little egrets in these fields over the last few weeks and a great white egret was recorded there in December, so we weren't surprised, but they're always nice to see, and we went for a closer look.  

"That one's beak looks a bit yellow..."  "Nah, it can't be..."  "Hang on, let me take a pic..."  "I'm sending this to the 100 team for their thoughts..."

cattle egret (credit Alec Cuthbertson)

One of the many benefits of being part of the Warwick 100 is that we use each other for ID confirmation, asking questions without feeling stupid and we all celebrate our successes as a team.  Today was the perfect example of this.  Confirmed as our first ever cattle egret and our 73rd bird of the year, there were cheers all round and three of the team went straight to the area, viewing the bird from the other side of the horse field.

After watching for a while, Jack and I continued birding around the Saxon Mill, picking up a pair of peregrines perfectly perched on a pylon (!) for number 74, along with all the regular birds.  We took a look at Flash Gordon, not really hoping for anything, but surprisingly three smart shovellers took us to 75.  Sometimes the birding Gods just smile on you.

Symmetrical peregrines

Shovellers on Flash Gordon

On to Avon Wood.  This is a wonderful thirty-two acre site of privately owned young woodland, managed traditionally, and quite brilliantly.   It has been great to watch the area grow over the last few years and it is becoming quite the spot for wildlife.  I love to go at dawn to watch the barn owl hunt and there's been records of woodcock, water rail and otters too.  

Today there was an enormous finch flock moving from tree to tree, making a cacophony of noise.  The group was made up of siskin, goldfinch, linnet and over twenty lesser redpoll.  I've never seen so many at once, it was a feast for the eyes and the ears, and took the Warwick 100 team to number 76 for the year.  

Lesser redpoll

And to top it off, just as we were enjoying them, Jack heard a familiar flight call and looked up to see a yellowhammer flying over - number 77.

What an amazing morning we had.  With a call of red kite coming from another team member as we made our way home, the Warwick 100 ended the day on 78 for the year, 138 for all time and enormous smiles on our faces.

Lizzy